


Sharp Words on a Cold Night

by eveningstar



Category: A3! (Video Game)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-10
Updated: 2019-03-10
Packaged: 2019-11-14 20:16:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18059327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eveningstar/pseuds/eveningstar
Summary: They fight, they make up, they nerd out about early twentieth century theatre





	Sharp Words on a Cold Night

**Author's Note:**

> I had a bad week, so I wrote BanJu cuddles. This is completely self-indulgent and I have no excuse.

“What’re you doing?”

 Juza had returned from his shower to find Banri sitting up in Juza’s bed with the covers wrapped around his shoulders like a cloak, looking for all the world like a king looking down his subjects, except that the only thing he was looking down at was his phone, fingers flying across the surface.

 “It’s cold,” he replied, not looking up from his phone.  

 “It’s not cold,” Juza stated matter of factly. It wasn’t, not really. There’d been a bit of a cold snap the week before, but it seemed like winter was finally releasing its bony grip on the dorms. A few more weeks and the sakura would be in full bloom, according to Kazunari, who seemed to be having great difficulty trying to balance all of his hanami parties.  

 Juza scrubbed his still-damp hair with the towel around his neck, and sat down at his desk, pulling a notebook and his copy of “Major Movements in European Theatre” out of his backpack. He’d been asked to pick up extra shifts at the sweets factory lately, in the rush leading up to White Day, and he barely had time to keep up with his university work. He had another early shift before his afternoon class tomorrow, so he needed to get this finished tonight.

 He flipped open the notebook and paused at the unusual silence. It was strange that Settsu hadn’t kept up the argument, stupid as it was. In fact, the more pointless the argument, the harder Settsu generally pressed it. Juza glanced up and saw that he was still swiping just as furiously, the hair falling in his face enough to hide his expression, but not the pink tinge at the top of his ears.

 Juza couldn’t help the smile that tugged at the corners of his lips. So that’s how it was. It had been a few months now, since the first time their usual push and pull had ended in, well, a different kind of push and pull. They’d barely looked at each other for days afterward, and when they finally did, it ended the same way. Juza wasn’t under any illusions about what this meant - it was just another way for them to compete, all the physicality of fighting, without the blood. And it felt really,  _really_ good.

 Unlike the first time they fought, Banri was definitely better and more experienced of them, but in his determination to not to lose, Juza felt like he was catching up pretty quickly. At least, judging by the way Settsu reacted. It was a lot like fighting, really. Testing your opponent, learning where their weaknesses lay - only instead of trying to inflict pain, Juza was figuring out what Settsu liked. It was satisfying in a way winning a fight had never been, watching, waiting, making a calculated guess and then going in for the attack, knowing he’d hit a bullseye when Settsu gasped and shivered, hands clutching at Juza’s arms. Of course, Settsu was never one to stay beaten for long, and would usually come back soon after with a counterattack that made Juza see stars.

 Lately, though, they’d started to dispense with what had become the formality of the fight beforehand. Just before he headed for his bath, Banri would grab Juza and ask if he had morning classes the next day. When Juza replied in the negative, a sly grin would spread across his face.

 “Good,” he would reply.

 The wait for him to come back from his bath would be interminable.

 But Settsu hadn’t asked tonight, and even if he had, the answer wouldn’t have been what he wanted. So while Juza was all too aware that his textbooks weren’t the only thing he’d been neglecting because of his extra shifts, and as much as he wanted to shove the book back into his bag, scramble up the ladder and push Settsu down against the sheets, kiss at that pink tinge on his pale skin until it turned bright red, he had to wait. He knew he’d never be able to get this done in the morning. As much as he enjoyed the practical units of his Drama degree, these kind of theoretical classes were often a struggle. He’d always liked history and it was interesting to learn about the different kinds of acting, but the writing in this textbook was so convoluted, he had to read each sentence three times over to come anywhere close to understanding it.

 He was sure Settsu would be able to scan the page and take it all in at a glance, and the burst of annoyance he felt at that fact went a long way towards diminishing his desire. That fucker was too used to getting everything he wanted easily, it would do him good to suffer once in a while.

 So he ignored the faint sound of Banri’s fingers tapping at his screen, and opened his textbook.

 With each moment that passed, he could feel Settsu’s bad mood growing, radiating down from the loft bed, like black storm clouds over a cartoon character. It made it very difficult to concentrate. But he had to finish this homework. Settsu couldn’t expect Juza to act like a lapdog who came whenever he called - even though that was probably what he was used to with the girls he’d surely been with before. Juza gripped his highlighter a little tighter as the scene played out unbidden in his mind. Settsu lying back against the headboard of a hotel bed invitingly, the high school girl in her short check skirt climbing over him, eager and excited, smug with pride that she was the one the famous Settsu Banri chose, even just for a day, a little nervous that she wouldn’t live up to his expectations - he probably liked that, getting his ego stroked before she -

 His train of thought was mercifully derailed by the soft thump of Banri throwing his phone onto the bed and sighing loudly. Juza gritted his teeth.

 “Shut up.”

 He knew he shouldn’t rise to the provocation, but he also knew from experience that Settsu would continue to bother him until he got a reaction. The best course would have been to take his books to the living room, but he refused to be chased out of his own room just because Settsu was in a mood.

 Unlike Settsu, Juza had to actually work for what he wanted. He had to take apart each phrase in this stupid textbook to try to understand it, he couldn’t just skim it and bullshit his way through class. He had to get up in the chill of an early spring morning to go to work because he didn’t have a little piece of black plastic he could use to bring home bags of clothing worth more than some people’s monthly salary. He couldn’t just drop everything because Settsu wanted to mess around.

 “I didn’t say anything,” Banri shot back smugly. God, how old was he, six?

 “I’m trying to study.”

 “Yeah, ‘try’ is the operative word, isn’t it?” There was an edge to Banri’s voice that said that this wasn’t just his usual sniping to fill the air, he was aiming to wound. “Maybe if you weren’t so fucking stupid, it wouldn’t take you five fucking minutes to read one page.”

 Juza wanted to punch him.

 “Well, it’s hard to focus when there’s someone sulking in the corner like a child who’s been told he couldn’t have a cookie after dinner.”

 Banri laughed bitterly.

 “You really don’t ever think about anything but sweets, do you?”

 “Better than being someone who only ever thinks about himself,” Juza replied coldly.

 Banri froze and Juza knew he’d gone too far - not that it was even true. Maybe it had been, once, but he had proven over and over again how much he cared about his fellow company members. Juza felt his face colour with hot shame.

 “Settsu, I -”

 Banri gave another bitter laugh, shaking his head.

 “That’s still what you think of me, huh? And here I was -” he scowled at whatever he’d thought, but didn’t voice it.

 He snatched up his phone and climbed over the divider to his own bed, where he immediately buried himself under the covers. Juza looked back at his textbook and sighed. Brecht would have to wait until morning. Some things were more important than European theatre.

 He climbed up Banri’s ladder and when he set a hand on the bed to push himself up, Banri kicked at it ineffectively from under the covers.

 “Fuck off,” a muffled voice said to the wall.

 “I’m sorry,” Juza said simply.

 There was no reply. Juza sighed and rubbed his hand over his face. He wanted to stay angry, to blame Settsu for provoking him in the first place - if he hadn’t been acting all high and mighty, none of this would have happened. He gave into it just a little, because it was at least a little bit Settsu’s fault, and kicked back at the lump of covers softly.

 “I said I’m sorry.”

 “Fuck off,” repeated the lump.

 “You fuck off. You know it isn’t true. You know I didn’t mean it.”

 The lump didn’t respond, so Juza kicked at it again. He’d acknowledge where he was wrong, but he certainly didn’t feel any responsibility to try and coax Settsu into a good mood.

 “But the world doesn’t revolve around you and what you want.”

 Banri finally stuck his head out of the covers, pushing himself up on one hand.

 “What?”

 “I’m sure you’re used to people throwing themselves at you whenever you want it,” Juza continued through gritted teeth, “but -”

 “You stupid fucking -” he took a deep breath. “What if it’d been Kumon?”

 “What?”

 “What if you were at home, and you came into your room and Kumon was waiting on your bed, saying he was cold?”

 “Don’t be gross, Kumon doesn’t want me to fuck him.”

 “That’s not - just imagine it. Seriously. Tell me what you would do.”

 Juza fell silent, obediently running the thought experiment. It would be obvious that Kumon was angling to sleep in Juza’s bed for the night. He’d be touched by the sweetness, and try not to laugh at the transparency. If he had study to do, he’d ruffle his hair and tell him to go to bed first, that his brother would be along shortly.

 He hadn’t said anything, but he was conscious of his expression softening. Banri’s hardened in response.

 “Exactly. And why would you do that?”

 Because he knew that Kumon loved him. He knew that because he loved him, if he was too busy with work to hang out with him, Kumon would miss him. He knew that because he loved Kumon, he would miss him just as much.

 Juza wasn’t sure if his time at Mankai had worn away his ability to hide his emotions, or if Banri had just gotten better at reading him, but it was obvious from Banri’s expression of resigned hurt that Juza may as well have yelled his answer from the rooftops. He tightened his lips and raised his eyebrows once, as if to say, see, I told you so, then looked away, blinking rapidly.

 Wait, what?

 The pieces fell into place. The way Settsu had dropped the argument immediately, the blush, the nervous swiping at his phone. What he’d thought was Settsu imperiously waiting for Juza to come to him on command was actually Settsu anxiously and hopefully waiting for Juza’s attention. And he’d rejected him in favour of Major Fucking Movements in European Theatre. Of course he was upset.

 Juza felt like he was ten years old again, trying and failing to save a sand castle, too awkward and stupid, the scale of his ability to fuck things up directly corresponding to their importance.

 “I didn’t -”

 He reached down and buried his fingers his Banri’s hair, squeezing against his scalp, but Banri didn’t look up, just closed his eyes and sighed.

 “I know you didn’t. That’s why...”

 Juza ran his hand through Banri’s hair, toying with a strand that caught between his fingers.

 “You didn’t ask,” he said, unable to hide his frustration, “I have work early tomorrow, I can’t -”

 “I know!” snapped Banri, knocking Juza’s hand away, “I heard you telling Omi. I thought you’d go to bed early. We don’t have to - I just wanted…

 “The other day. When I woke up…  I liked that,” he glared up at Juza, doing a surprisingly poor job at hiding his insecurity behind defiance.

 The other day…

 Juza told himself he wasn’t under any illusions, but a couple of weeks ago, Settsu had fallen asleep in Juza’s bed afterwards. When Juza woke, the sight of Settsu in the early morning light, his skin looking even more pale than usual against Juza’s dark sheets, the feel of his sleep-warm body in Juza’s arms, the way his breath tickled against Juza’s chest… it was enough to make an illusion seem appealing.

 And when Settsu woke up… Juza had tried to forget it, not even certain it had really happened. As he lay there, watching Settsu sleep, rubbing circles on his back and letting himself see illusions, just for a moment, the other boy had woken up slowly, eyelids twitching with the first signs of consciousness, rubbing his face against Juza’s chest and grumbling, tightening his arms around Juza like a child squeezing a stuffed toy, gradually registering his surroundings, pushing himself back and blinking at Juza before breaking into the most radiant, heartbreaking smile Juza had ever seen. Settsu had kissed him artlessly, once, twice, three times, then declared that his breath was revolting as he curled back against Juza.

 “Why are you kissing me, then?” asked Juza.

 “Cause I want to,” replied Settsu, smiling sleepily against Juza’s skin. He’d fallen back asleep after that, and Juza must have too, because when he woke again he was alone in his bed.

 Well, if that was what he wanted… Juza forcefully pulled the edge of the bedcover out from under Banri, sliding himself in next to him.

 “Get the fuck out of my bed.”

 Banri kicked at him again, a little more effectively now that the cover wasn’t dulling the force. Juza captured his leg between his own and used it to pull Banri back down flat against the bed.

 “Says the fucker who wrapped himself in my sheets and made a mess of my bed,” said Juza, wrapping an arm around Banri, drawing him back against his chest.

 “It’s fine because it’s yours,” Banri shot back. He flung his elbow backwards into Juza’s ribs, but didn’t try to remove Juza’s arm. “Daikon don’t need sheets.”

 “Neither do foxes,” replied Juza, tapping his heel against Banri’s shin in an approximation of a kick.

 “Fuck you.”

 Unlike their earlier argument, there was no force in it, just their usual challenge and response. They fell into silence for a few moments, and Juza laced his fingers through Banri’s.

 “I liked it too,” he said, squeezing Banri’s hand. He hesitated for a moment, but forced himself to say it - he wasn’t going to lose to Settsu in anything, not even in embarrassingly honest confessions. “I liked it so much, I thought I dreamt it.”

 He felt the remaining tension drain out of Settsu’s body, and that was almost as satisfying as when he caused him to dig his perfectly manicured nails into Juza’s back.

 Banri turned himself around in Juza’s arms.

 “Dream about me often, do you?” he said, back to his usual infuriating cockiness.

 Juza laughed, brushing some stray hair out of Banri’s face.

 “I prefer the real thing.”

 Banri smiled back, just a little bit coy. Was that on purpose? Juza wondered as he fell for it hook, line and sinker, closing the short distance between them to kiss Settsu with a softness he didn’t normally allow himself until much later in the night, when exhaustion provided a plausible defence.

 When he pulled back, Banri leaned forward to demand another kiss but suddenly stopped himself.

 “Wait. Did you finish what you were working on?”

 The sudden change of subject took Juza by surprise.

 “What?”

 “At your desk. Was it uni stuff?”

 Juza had forgotten all about it. Most days he felt truly grateful that he had the opportunity to study something he cared about so much, but right now he felt like Brecht could jump off a fucking cliff. He groaned.

“Yeah. It’s for tomorrow. I really need to get it done tonight,” he said, reluctantly releasing Banri from his embrace. “Sorry.”

“What is it?”

Banri pushed himself up into a sitting position.

“Huh?”

“Let me help. The sooner it’s done the sooner you can go to bed, right?”

Juza looked at him warily. On the one hand, he still hated needing Settsu’s help. But on the other hand, there was no doubt they worked better together.

“We need to come up with a short proposal for a reworking of a historical event as epic theatre.”

Banri’s eyes lit up.

“That sounds interesting. We don’t do Brecht until second year, but I know a little - what are you thinking of doing?”

Banri’s enthusiasm sparked Juza’s own, and before he knew it, he was down the ladder and picking up his notebook.

“I know a lot of other people are doing the French Revolution, because -”

“Yeah, yeah, if you’re going to put a Marxist spin on something, that’s an easy target -”

“Exactly, so I thought it would be more interesting to do something from Japanese history -”

“- You could play off the stylised elements of kabuki and -”

“I was thinking that at first, but the thing is -”

“Do you have to perform it? If you’re going to perform it you should -”

\---

“Fuck,” said Juza, looking up at the clock. “I need to leave for work in three hours.”

Rather than a short proposal, he had a half-filled notebook with a three-act retelling of the Satsuma Rebellion as Brechtian epic theatre, conceived over the course of four hours with laughter, kisses, and only three fights that nearly turned to blows.

“Sorry,” Banri winced. “I guess we got carried away.”

“It was fun, though,” Juza said with an unselfconscious smile over his shoulder as he climbed the ladder - to Banri’s bed.

“Hyodo…?” Banri’s voice called to him from below.

“I’m going to sleep for a couple of hours, at least,” he replied, ignoring the real question Settsu was asking. “I’ll try not to wake you up when I leave, but no promises.”

Juza buried himself under Banri’s covers, and when the owner of said covers didn’t follow, he called down, “Oi. I thought this was what you wanted, wasn’t it?”

Banri turned the lights off and climbed the ladder with such force the whole bed shook. Juza tried to suppress his laughter as he pulled Banri in close to him, too tired to be surprised by the way that the presence of the other boy, the very sight of whom used to set Juza’s teeth on edge, made him feel reassured and peaceful.

“You know,” he murmured into Banri’s ear, already losing his battle with sleep, “I’d been thinking, with the money from my extra shifts, there’s some cabins in the mountains, there’s nice views, it’s close enough to go by motorbike… I thought… but I didn’t think… you…”

He was gone.

Banri pressed himself tighter against Juza’s warmth - whatever the fucker said, it was fucking cold, especially at two in the morning - and didn’t bother trying to hide his smile.

**Author's Note:**

> I have only the vaguest memories of epic theatre from my own drama days, Brecht references were brought to you by thinking about Banri playing Macheath which was brought to you by thinking about Luciano singing Mack the Knife.


End file.
